In Our Hearts, We Must Carry On
by sherrybaby
Summary: "That sense of admiration welled up inside of her again. She was cool in her own right, seemingly detached from society as if the goings-on of high school were beneath her. But Dallas Winston was another story: he actually didn't care." Cherry gets more than she asks for when she spends a night with Dally. Trigger Warning: Abortion
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone. This is something I've been thinking about for a few days. This will be short, only a few chapters.

 **This does deal with abortion, so if that's not something you agree with, please stop reading now.**

* * *

"I'd say you're about six weeks along." Cherry's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. _Six weeks?_

"That- that's impossible," she stuttered in disbelief. She quickly counted backwards to her last period, and found the doctor was right. His blue eyes were sympathetic over his gold rimmed glasses and he patted her on the shoulder, saying he'd give her some time alone. She had skipped a period, and woke up feeling sick more often than not, but chalked that up to the pressures of final and Bob demanding to see her, though they had broken up a while ago. She was serious when she said she'd never go out with him while he had been drinking, but it seemed like towards the end, he was always drunk. Her heart sank, knowing it wasn't his. After the appointment, she sat in her Sting Ray, head against the window, trying to keep thoughts of the night she spent with Dallas Winston at bay.

* * *

It was a chilly night and Cherry was at the drive-in, alone. She shuddered, pulling her blue sweater tightly around her small frame. She was cooling off after a night of fighting with Bob. It was about two weeks since she found out Bob and his friends had jumped Johnny Cade, beat him half to death. Cherry hated fights and was sick with the knowledge her sweet, thoughtful boyfriend did that for kicks. Alcohol had been involved, no doubt, but that wasn't an excuse. He controlled his drinking around her for the most part, but lately it had been getting out of control. He turned into a monster when he was drunk, fighting just to fight, not willing to hear 'no,' not content until he got his way. They had broken up; the fighting and drinking had been too much for her to handle. She didn't even offer an ultimatum, she just called it off. They were both upset, but her grades had certainly improved since she wasn't out at night, taking care of him after he'd pass out in the streets.

Marcia was off with Randy somewhere and Cherry was a little grateful for the silence. She loved her best friend, but she sure could be tiring sometimes. Another beach movie was playing, and while they weren't her favorite, they provided enough entertainment to keep her mind off things. However, she was so immersed in the movie, she hadn't sensed the coming storm.

The drive-in was fairly empty; she was one of the few sitting in the rows of chairs, but the car lot wasn't all that busy either. She had driven there, but preferred sitting in the seats- it was quieter and people weren't standing in the way. Halfway through the movie, a shadow loomed over her.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," a deep voice drawled. Cherry tensed slightly but didn't turn around, instead bringing her coke to her lips to quell her trembling lips.

"Hey. Redhead. I'm talking to you." The voice was closer now, breathing down her neck. She'd recognize it anywhere. Dallas Winston. She kept her eyes forward, half hoping he'd leave her alone, half wanting to see where this would go. She heard him chuckle as he walked around the chair and sat down beside her, setting his own drink on the ground. She felt a thrill of foreboding but still, ignored him. "You hate me, huh?" She could hear his grin in his voice.

"I don't hate anyone," she said coolly. He cleared his throat and propped his long legs up on the rail in front of them with ease before pulling out a cigarette. That sense of admiration welled up inside of her again. She was cool in her own right, seemingly detached from society as if the goings-on of high school were beneath her. But Dallas Winston was another story: he actually didn't care. She wished she didn't care.

"Want a smoke?" He shook the pack at her and she declined, bewildered. "Maybe something a little more dangerous?" She looked at him now, cigarette dangling from his lips, his lanky frame stretched out in the seat, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

"What?" She snapped. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you want? I'm not in the mood. I'm never in the mood for you."

"I'm bored," he shrugged. She watched his hands fumble for something in his jacket, and for a wild moment thought he'd pull out a knife. Her fears were unfounded as he produced a small silver flask. He grinned, waving the container at her before pouring some in her drink, as well as his own. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed as if silently daring her to drink. Rising to the challenge, she quickly took a gulp, coughing at the liquid burning her throat. He laughed loudly at that.

Her face burned red and she drank even more, then wondered what the hell she was doing, how she had found herself sharing a drink with a greaser- a violent one at that. The more she drank, the less she cared. Maybe this was her "fuck you" to societal norms. She wasn't opposed to drinking; she just couldn't stand how people let it run their life. Becoming friendly with Dally was never in the cards, and she knew these cards led to dangerous places, but she was fuming from her fight with her ex-boyfriend, and the spiked drink was beginning to muddle her thoughts. She knew she was teetering dangerously close to the edge, and wondered just how far she would fall.

"Something's wrong," she started, trying to make sense. "Why aren't you bothering me?"

"Do you like when I bother you?"

"No. I don't like you." But that wasn't exactly true, was it? She had told Ponyboy if she saw Dally again she'd fall in love with him. Pony was a smart kid; she knew she could share that without him telling anyone, but she had to wonder. She didn't really mean she'd fall in love, at least she hoped not. She just meant…

"You're cute when you're angry," he interrupted her thoughts, smirking again. She wanted to slap him and wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid face. Instead she just narrowed her eyes.

"Leave me alone," Cherry huffed, turning back to the movie, regretting giving this hood the time of day. "Be nice and leave me alone," she pleaded, echoing the same words she spoke the first night they met.

"I'm never nice," he parroted. She shook her head, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. She had seen how he acted with Johnny, only backing down when he said something. She'd be treading on thin ice if she brought it up. So, again, she ignored him. He cleared his throat but said nothing more. After a while, he stood up and left, brushing the seat of his pants off.

"See ya." Cherry was left reeling. Her head was beginning to clear a bit, but she still couldn't understand what had just happened. She had sat with Dallas and he hadn't attacked her. He seemed calm, not the angry young man everyone knew he was. It scared her. But not as much as what happened next.

The second movie started and Cherry headed to the concessions to get popcorn. Standing in line, she noticed a couple of younger Socs ahead of her, and some unsavory looking Greasers behind her. They looked more dangerous than Dally. The hair on her neck pricked up as they eyed her, baring their teeth into barely passable smiles. She stood up a little straighter, head held high. Popcorn and another drink in hand, she started making her way back to her seat when she was stopped by three boys; the greasers from the snack line.

"Hey baby," one of them slurred. She smiled politely but quickly averted her eyes, trying to side-step the group.

"Where d'ya think you're goin'?" Another sneered, grabbing for her arm. Her eyes darted around for the two younger Socs she saw, but they hadn't noticed. The tallest of the three boys stepped closer and closer, forcing her to walk backwards until she was pinned between him and the wall. She could smell alcohol coming off of him and it made her feel sick. A hand snaked its way up and down her arm before sliding its way across her taut belly. She jerked hard to the left but was pulled back into place by two strong hands pinning her arms. She hitched a breath to cry out, but a sweaty hand clasped over her mouth shoving her head back. Her skull bounced off the wall behind her and she let out a strangled yelp. For the first time, she felt fear. The three bodies pressed themselves around her. The tall boy's eyes bore holes straight through her; they were black, too black. His face filled her field of vision and he slid a hand around her neck.

"When I'm done, she's yours," the boy slurred to his friends, who laughed.

She heard a distinct click of a switchblade.

"Get the fuck off of her," a low voice rumbled from the dark.

"Who's gonna make me?" The tall boy smirked.

"Me," it threatened and she could breathe again. Whoever it was had grabbed her attacker by his shoulder and spun him around, slamming him to the ground. The dim light glinted off the switchblade and she saw Dallas was wielding it, not one of these boys. His boot planted firmly into the boy's stomach, knocking the wind out of him before he could even climb back to his feet. His friends had run away.

"You okay?" Dally panted. Cherry nodded, her eyes wide and fearful, unable to speak.

"Git out of here." She nodded and took off, slowing when she got near the rows of chairs. She sat down to catch her breath, wincing when she touched the back of her head. She'd have a hell of a bruise. She debated on leaving but figured she wouldn't be having any more problems that night. Besides, it was early still, and she knew her parents were still awake, and she sure as hell didn't want to explain why she looked so awful.

The movie was over, and as Cherry headed to her car, she had decided that the night was just a fluke; maybe the full moon had people acting funny. Her heart stuttered when she saw a familiar figure leaning against the passenger side of her car. She stopped a few feet short, and watched him silently. A look of annoyance crossed her face and she tapped her foot impatiently.

"Hi. Can you move? Now."

"I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"Why would I?"

"I saved you," he said simply. She had to agree there; she hated to think what would've happened if he hadn't showed.

"Thank you," she said. She didn't want him to see her vulnerable. He grinned and stepped away from the car.

"You dropped these." Her keys were dangling from her index finger and she rifled through her bag, surprised when she didn't find them.

"Thank you," she said again, reaching for them. He jerked them away and grinned again. Her jaw clenched. It was stupid to think he'd be nice outside of that one moment. She reached out and again he snatched them away.

"What do I get for them?"

"Isn't the thought of being a good, helpful person enough?"

"Nope," he said simply. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Just give me my keys."

"Why?"

"Because I'm asking."

"So?" He wouldn't make this easy. To her horror, her bottom lip started quivering. She looked down, berating herself, trying to control the tears threatening to spill. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. She clenched her jaw and looked up, shooting daggers.

"Give. Me. My Keys." He presented them open palmed. She grabbed them quickly and walked around to the other side, Dally a few steps behind. She unlocked the door, then turned to say goodbye. He was staring at her in a way that gave her chills. His eyes were so clear, and he was looking at her in wonder.

"What-" her question was silenced by a surprisingly soft kiss. She started to pull away but something stopped her. Something changed in her. She had always been attracted to "bad boys," and Dally was no exception. So she tangled her fingers in his dark hair, deepening their kiss. When it ended, they were slightly out of breath, their cheeks burning red. He timidly touched her soft hair. An unspoken agreement passed between them and they both slid into the front seat and drove off, heading to the vacant lot.

In the backseat, tangled up in each other, she briefly wondered if she was making a mistake, but then he kissed her and she didn't care. She'd deal with the regret tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, this story does deal with abortion, If that makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading now. Cherry makes her appointment.

* * *

Monday morning found Cherry sleeping, caught halfway between a dream and her real world. The weekend went by too quickly for her liking, but she had kept her mind off the other night, for the most part. She could hear her mother calling for her to get up and get ready, and she heard her brother joking that Cherry was "still in bed, dreaming about some boy." As he said it, her dream about fighting a fire-breathing dragon was interrupted. She sighed, giving up on her last few minutes of sleep, and turned to face the wall. She and her father had painted three walls a pale purple with she was 10, and the fourth wall was offset with a deep purple, now adorned with The Beatles posters and pictures of her life. If anyone wanted to know anything about her, they'd just have to look at this wall. She was an open book there.

Some boy.

Certainly not the boy she should be dreaming of. That was Bob; with his dirty blonde perfectly coiffed hair and his piercing blue eyes. Bob, who was quick to smile and make her laugh and was content to sit at home with her and watch television; who was also quick to drink and quick to anger, but would never lay a hand on her- not more than once, anyways. There was always bad with the good. Fortunately, Bob was more good than bad. He was secure. He was safe. They had broken up, but if she could keep last night a secret, they would find their way back to each other; they always did.

This other boy was different. Dallas was quick to fight, quick to insult, quick to hurt and judge and lie and steal. He was wild and unpredictable. Dark hair and dark eyes with an even darker soul. Cherry's mother was always scolding her for bringing in strays, and well, wasn't this boy just another stray? She shook her head, finally getting ready, knowing this was all just silly musings, and, though she found a certain appeal to so-called "bad boys," she would always go with the safest route.

She pulled her light purple quilt over her head and groaned into her pillow. She wouldn't think of Friday night anymore. She wouldn't think of the way his weight felt on top of her, the way her skin almost glowed in the moonlight, their bodies wet with sweat. The way they knew what they other needed, a forbidden call and answer. She certainly wouldn't think of how his pants fit just right and his black shirt hugged his skin and the way his hands were rough and his lips were so soft and- NO. No. Her hands clenched the sheets in frustration. She wouldn't think like that. She couldn't. She would forget last night ever happened, as she knew he would.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't lonely. Sometimes she wanted more out of life than beer blasts on the bottom of the riverbed, or having meaningless conversations just to be saying something. Bob still wanted her but she wasn't ready for another round with him. However, she regretted Friday night, no matter how fun and exciting it was. Hurting Bob was the last thing she'd ever want to do, and she had played a dangerous game. She wasn't wrong, telling Ponyboy she hoped she'd never see Dallas again, but she had, and luckily, escaped unscathed. That was more than most girls could say. She had a plan and Dallas Winston was not part of it.

His jacket threw a wrench into that plan.

After breakfast, she had gone out to her car and unceremoniously tossed her books into the seat beside her. One flopped down to the floorboard, but she ignored it until she had parked in the school parking lot. As she retrieved her books from the passenger side, her fingers brushed against something rough; a denim jean jacket. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she dropped the jacket, slightly horrified.

"Cherry! Hurry!" She heard Marcia calling for her mere steps away, and from the sound of it, she was getting closer. Cherry hastily shoved the jacket under the seat before snatching her books. She straightened up, brushed her hands on her plaid skirt, adjusted her cardigan, and faced her friend with the biggest smile she could muster. Randy was waiting for them a few feet ahead, and she could feel Bob's eyes on her as he leaned against his car, waiting. Instead, she linked arms with her best friend and chatted excitedly about the weekend- no mention of the movie theater. She even caught Ponyboy's eye throughout the day but promptly looked away each time. She rarely talked to him at school, but knew even if it was a common occurrence, he'd see right through her. Those big eyes of his had a way of drilling through the bullshit, straight to the soul. This was one secret Cherry would happily take to her grave.

* * *

A month later, Dallas hadn't come looking for his jacket, and Cherry had truly believed that was the end of it. She had no intention of seeking him out to return his clothing, and instead had kept herself busy, immersed herself in school and her social life, and had even thought about taking Bob back.

She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, taking deep shaky breaths. The phone was on the floor next to her feet, its cord stretched so far it could rip from the wall at any second. She had called her cousin Janet and explained her situation. Janet lived in Chicago and had been a surrogate older sister for as long as Cherry could remember, and she knew she could trust Janet with this. Janet had told her not to worry, that she had a few friends who had "gotten it taken care of." The thought terrified Cherry. But there wasn't another option. Janet had given her a number for a doctor a good 45 minutes from Tulsa; it was safer that way.

Her parents were still working, and her brother was at football practice. Taking another deep breath, Cherry slowly dialed the number. Her hands shook so hard she nearly dropped the phone. She flexed her toes against the soft pale blue bath mat- so pale it was almost white, though her mother insisted it was, indeed, blue. Everything in her house was too clean, too pure. It sometimes felt like she was living in a museum more than an actual home.

"Dr. Watson's office," a woman answered.

"Hi- I _ahem-_ I…" Cherry froze. She couldn't believe what she was about to say. She couldn't get the words past her lips.

"Yes?" The woman pressed.

Cherry's voice had started out strong, but the reality of the situation was beginning to seep in, and her voice faltered more and more. "I… I have a problem. I'm calling about… well, an unwanted pregnancy."

"Okay, dear. I have a few questions to ask before we get you scheduled." As they talked, Cherry felt slightly better, but only just. She nervously twirled her famously red hair around her long, pale, finger, and chewed her lip until a piece of skin tore off- a bad habit from insecure junior high days she had never managed to quit. She winced at the pain. Finally, the big question came up.

"Is the father in the picture?" Cherry had to swallow the laugh that was bubbling up.

"What? _Oh._ Uh… No, not really…"

"That's fine, dear. You'll need someone with you to drive you home, as here we only do surgical procedures, not medicated ones. This is _very_ important."

"Okay…" She sniffled loudly, feeling the threat of hot tears brimming.

"Be sure to wear something comfortable- no jeans, but loose fitting clothes if possible."

"Oh- okay. Is there anything else I should know?"

"You will need to stock up on pads of your choosing as you will bleed a lot after. Nothing goes in the vagina for two weeks- no tampons, no fingers-" Cherry turned bright red at that; _fingers?_ "-no sex, _nothing._ Any questions?"

"No, no I think that's it…" Her voice cracked.

"Okay. If you have any, please don't hesitate to call us."

"Okay. Thank you," Cherry choked out a whisper, feeling small. The woman made a sympathetic noise.

"Of course, dear. Take care."

Cherry hung up and called Janet back with the information. The appointment was set for two and a half weeks from now, on a Friday, at 9 am. Her parents were set to go out of town the Thursday before, and her brother was rarely home on weekends, and Cherry needed at least a full day to recover. Janet wouldn't be able to come out, and Marcia was _definitely_ out of the picture, so Cherry would brave this on her own. She hadn't yet planned on whom to ask to take her to the clinic. She figured she'd just lie and drive herself home.

She walked into her bedroom- one of the few places in the house that had bursts of color- and dug through her closet. The jacket had been stashed away in the very back, underneath shoes she had outgrown years ago but hadn't gotten around to throwing out yet. She pulled the jacket out and leaned against her closet door adorned with more band posters, pulling her denim-draped knees up to her chest. She stared unfocused at the dark purple wall in front of her, feeling like she was going crazy. The photographs' subjects weren't smiling anymore; they were mocking her. " _We were perfect in this moment. You screwed it all up. We still have our lives ahead of us. **You** are doomed." _ Suddenly, her head snapped down and looked at the jacket before her. She had to get out. She had to give the jacket back. It only served as a sick reminder for what had happened, and what was to come, and the less of those, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter sucks, but I had massive writer's block, and I just wanted to get it out so I can get writing again. Thanks for reading!

* * *

She found him, unsurprisingly, at the vacant lot, alone. The black clouds in the distance mirrored Cherry's inner turmoil perfectly. The vacant lot was littered with beer cans, cigarette butts, and an old football lay abandoned in the tall grass. Cherry grimaced as she saw a used condom lying among the debris. Dallas was leaning against a red T-Bird, smoking, unbothered by the impending storm or the dirtiness of the lot. She was again, impressed at how _cool_ he looked in a leather jacket. She could see him squint slightly, a look of confusing marring his face briefly before his face settled into its typical unreadable expression. Her jaw clenched and she took a deep breath as she pulled up next to the car and got out, standing mere feet away from him, quickly smoothing her tartan skirt out. The thunder rolled.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," he grinned wolfishly, echoing the words he spoke the other night. Her stomach twisted into knots. "Couldn't get enough, huh?" She rolled her eyes at that.

"You left your jacket," she snapped.

"Sure," he smirked, taking another drag on the cigarette. She tossed the denim jacket at him. It hit him squarely in the chest before dropping to the dirt. His eyes danced, but whether dangerously or not, she couldn't tell. He stubbed the cigarette out before picking up his clothing. He tossed the jacket on the passenger seat before settling back against the car. She leaned on her own car, arms crossed, feet firmly planted shoulder-width apart. She couldn't bear to let him see how rattled she was.

"That it?" A nervous energy had developed between the two, evidenced by her chewing the inside of her lip, and his fingers fumbling slightly as he picked out another cigarette. Thunder clapped not too far away and a streak of white lightning filled the sky. Cherry felt hot and cold all at once.

"Well?" He pressed, looking at her as if she'd grown two heads. She chewed her cheek a little more and jumped as the roar of thunder indicated its close presence. He opened his mouth to speak again.

"You lookin' for another round or what?"

"In your dreams." Her voice came out shakily, a mere whisper. His brow furrowed as he took a close look.

"Hey, you feelin' okay?" Her face burned red; this wasn't how she wanted to tell him.

"I feel like a defective typewriter," she laughed mirthlessly. At his questioning look _(and did she see a hint of fear there?)_ she elaborated. "I missed a period." She tried to match his cool, bored tone. Her faltering voice affirmed her real feeling of the situation; though her body language tried so hard to show she didn't care. His lips parted in shock and his eyes went wide. His cigarette hung from his lower lip.

" _What?"_

She laughed humorlessly again. "Like you've never dealt with this before." He shook his head wordlessly, shock still etched all over his face. It was Cherry's turn to be surprised. They stared at each other uncomfortably for a few minutes, the bright lightening causing them to wince.

"W-" he cleared his throat, "What's gonna…"

"I'm taking care of it," she said. "My cousin sent me the name of a doctor almost an hour from here who'll do the procedure." He nodded, lips still parted slightly.

"When's the appointment?"

"Two and a half weeks."

He nodded again. "Okay. When do you want me to be there? How much is it?" She didn't think he could surprise her even more.

"N- no that's not why I'm here. I can take care of it."

"Then why are you here?"

"I just… I just wanted to give you your jacket. I just wanted you to know, I guess."

" _Dally!"_ A voice sounded off in the distance. He quickly looked back, raising a hand in greeting.

"Gimme a minute!" He hollered back at the figure. "Sorry," he said, turning back to Cherry. She shook her head.

"So? What time? How much?"

"Don't worry about the money. No sweat." A brief look over anger flashed across his face and she knew what he was thinking- she assumed he didn't have the money.

"It's not that," she started quickly. "I just have to do it on my own." He nodded, not fully understanding, but not willing to argue much longer.

"At least let me take you," he asked. "I've heard about this thing, you're not supposed to go alone."

"I'll be fine," she waved him off. He was beginning to realize how strong she was; terrified and willing to go through something like this alone. It was actually a little frustrating trying to get her to open up, but he liked the challenge.

"Damnit, Cherry!" Her eyes went wide with surprise. "Just let me do this. This is about both of us, now. I can't abandon you like this. That's not me." The clouds opened up and started pouring rain. She smiled slightly, shouting to be heard.

"It's at 9 AM. We'll have to leave at 8."

He grinned and her heart jumped. She smiled, tightlipped, before walking to the driver's side of her car.

"Hey!" She turned back towards him. "Catch!" His denim jacket came sailing through the sky, waterlogged before it even got to her. She caught it, staring at it for a few seconds before smiling at him, a real smile. They slid into the seats of their respective cars at the same time, and Cherry waited for him to lead the way out of the lot, which was getting muddy quickly. He turned left, towards the Curtis house, and she turned right. She caught sight of his hand hanging out the window, his fingers moving in a subtle kind of wave, and couldn't help the sigh that escaped from her lips.

At dinner, Cherry was able to contribute enough to the chatter that no one suspected a thing, but her mind was really elsewhere. As she lay in bed that night, she looked at her dark closet, where the jacket hung to dry, and made a mental note to hide it in the morning; her mother loved to snoop. Not too long after, the rain pounding on her roof quelled her thoughts enough to allow her to start to drift off to sleep.

* * *

There was no pain, just a pool of bright red blood forming in her white cotton panties. She was slightly disappointed, but only because the underwear had been ruined.

" _This is it,"_ she thought. " _Maybe it's passing on its own and I don't have to go in."_ A twisted sense of glee rose up in her as she scrounged around her bathroom for something to stop the flow. She couldn't bring herself to think of the embryo as a "baby," just an "it." Things were easier that way.

Like so many days before, she found herself on her bedroom floor, scrounging around for the familiar piece of clothing. She clutched the denim closely to her, as if the fabric was the only thing keeping her here; her last remaining grip on reality. She and Dally had kept in touch but only to firm up plans for the next week. In 7 short days she would be in a cold room, on a hard operating table, going through with a huge, serious procedure, and no one knew. She hated keeping it a secret but she couldn't trust Marcia to keep it a secret from Randy and Bob.

Bob had seemingly taken the hint that she wasn't interested, or so she thought, until she had woken up to a big bouquet waiting for her on her desk when she woke up. She had a feeling they weren't from Dally and outwardly groaned when she read the card. Her mother had apparently read the card as well and was absolutely beside herself trying to figure out why Cherry "wouldn't give that sweet, handsome boy another chance." At first glance, Mrs. Valance was different from other mothers they knew in that she actually cared for her kids, but only to stop any less-than-ideal scenarios that would oust her as a perfect parent. In reality, Cherry's parents were as removed as anyone else. She giggled at the thought of what her parents would say if they really knew what their kids were up to.

She bet an unwanted teen pregnancy was the last thing her mother expected.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is it: the actual surgery. It's at the end of the story, but it's not very descriptive. This is a very hard story for me to write, so I thank you for taking the time to read this. There will be at least one more chapter after this. Thank you for sticking around.**

* * *

Friday had come much too soon. Cherry had dug an old loose-fitting shift dress out of her closet, with her favorite pair of Oxford shoes. As a precaution, she donned a pair of sunglasses and a wide hat. She had parked in the garage so no neighbors would notice her car, and had called into school impersonating her mother saying Cherry was out with the flu. Dally showed up and had parked around the corner right at 8 AM, as planned.

The ride up there was uneventful. Dally ignored Cherry as she cried silently. He heard her sniffle and peered at her over his sunglasses.

" _What,"_ he barked. Her face remained stony, save for the tears sliding down her face.

"Nothing." Her voice stayed strong.

" _Something._ "

"Just drive."

* * *

Stepping inside the nondescript building, Cherry was shocked at how clean the clinic was. Any time she had pictured this, which admittedly was more than ever, leading up to it, she always saw a dingy room illuminated by a dim light with a seedy doctor and a dirty stained couch. But this place was bright, open, and in an actual doctor's office. The receptionist smiled at her and Cherry was relieved to see she had kind eyes; that calmed her jangling nerves a little.

Cherry was supposed to be a good girl with good grades and a good boyfriend and a bright future ahead of her; instead she found herself sitting in a hard plastic chair next to a greaser, wishing she were anywhere else, and keeping her eyes averted from the other people in the room.

They were called back three different times. First, to collect payment. Dally impatiently drummed his fingers on the armrest, and Cherry knew that he was annoyed with her for not letting him help. She ignored him.

The second was to explain the procedure, and Dally was briefly sent out in the hall while Cherry was grilled about making sure this was what she wanted. _"This is your body. Your boyfriend has no right to make you do something you don't want to do."_

"It was my idea. He's not my boyfriend." Cherry's voice was lifeless. She supposed the nurse thought she was just reciting what she was told to say. She knew how it looked: a pale, trembling girl fidgeting with her skirt hem with no one but a brooding, menacing boy to accompany her.

" _Are you sure?"_

"Positive." The nurse sighed and signed a paper saying Cherry was of sound mind to go through with the procedure.

Then, there was more waiting. They were there for four hours, mindlessly watching a marathon of _As The World Turns_. Dally had sprawled his long legs across the floor and dozed off around the second episode, leaving Cherry alone with her thoughts. She was nervous, that was for sure. But something told her that this was right.

When she was younger, she was a staunch defender of pro-life. She hadn't even heard of abortion until her cousin Janet had come home one day in tears, saying a friend had passed away from a self-performed abortion. She remembered her mother's face turning white, seeing her father tense up when it was mentioned. When Cherry asked about it, her mother had only made her promise to cherish life and to never do what this girl had done, before swiftly whisking Janet away to the other room. Cherry readily agreed, not fully understanding what had happened, but knowing it must be bad if someone had died because of it. As she got older however, when talks with her girlfriends were less dress-up and princesses, and focused more on the topic of boys and sex, she found herself wondering what she would do in that situation. Her friends were adamant that they'd keep the baby, no matter the circumstance, and Cherry agreed every time, but how did she really know? She often found herself thinking about that girl who felt she had no other option, and her heart went out to her.

Now, she couldn't help but think about those talks with friends, and know that this was the right thing to do. She wasn't ready to have a baby, not at 17, not before having an education and a stable career and husband. She had wondered about a future with Bob, sure. Two story house, white picket fence, two kids- a boy and a girl- a perfect representation of a perfect life. A boy in a leather jacket with perfectly tousled hair and motorcycle boots never factored into that equation.

She glanced at her sleeping companion who stirred briefly before lapsing back into a quiet snore. He was so unlike Bob in every way, yet the similarities they bared were striking. They were both loyal, that was for sure. Neither boy had much in the way of a home life. They were quick to anger, though Bob was more prone when he had been drinking. They both loved fighting, though their reasons were very different; Bob, because no matter the outcome, he still won. He would always win. Dally, because he had nothing to lose but everything to prove. But Cherry had seen a softer side to each, just bubbling under the surface. Bob had done countless sweet things for her while they were together, and Dally willingly sitting inches from her meant everything. They continued to surprise her in the best of ways.

She didn't know how she still kept comparing the two, as if she would get anywhere with it. She'd never choose, not really. Her feelings for Bob were safe, comfortable, sure. Her feelings for Dally were unclear and very complex, brought on by an argument and a drink and a scary confrontation. A doctor's appointment and some distressing news and a terrifying decision.

She heard rustling in his direction and glanced again as he awoke, blearily looking around.

"Any news?" He yawned loudly and stretched cat-like.

"No," she whispered.

"Wish I had a weed right now," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Cherry finally let her eyes wander around the room, trying not to stare too hard at the other occupants. Two girls sitting off to the side caught her eye, and she watched as a young girl cried, her body shaking with each silent sob, the older girl holding her close, making soothing noises and smoothing out the younger girl's hair. The older girl locked eyes with Cherry. Cherry's face burned red; she was intruding on a private moment. The older girl gave her a smile and a slight word, as her murmured "it's okay," carried across the room. Cherry returned the smile, grateful.

Ten minutes later, her name was called to head back for the third and final time. She took a deep breath, and stood up, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Dally. He caught her hand. She squeezed it.

"Thank you, Dallas." The significance of her saying his name was not lost on either of them, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

* * *

"You'll change into this gown, and a nurse will be in to give you an I.V." A nurse had led her into a tiny changing room, with only a chair to sit in. There was only a curtain providing her privacy but she was too nervous to feel self-conscious.

More waiting. It felt like ages, but was only another 45 minutes.

Cherry had small veins, and it took the nurse four tries to finally get a needle in. The bruises on the back of her right hand, her right inner wrist, her right elbow dent from the previous failed attempts, and finally, her left elbow ditch were beginning to form, hues anywhere from blue to deep purple spread across her pale skin. She groaned inwardly, knowing she'd have to make up a lie to tell her parents and friends. She was taken into a small clean white room, with a papered exam table, just like the one in the doctor's office back home. That too calmed her a bit. The doctor arrived soon after, and explained what he would be doing, and assured her she wouldn't feel a thing. Cherry was distracted by his fingertips colored yellow, a sure-sign he was a smoker. He was an older man, with blonde hair that had turned gray around the temples, and kind green eyes. He spoke in low, soothing tones, willing Cherry to trust him with her life. Her stomach twisted in fear as she thought of her cousin's friend, but it was too late to back out now.

Soon after, she was under, and the procedure had begun.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey all. Life got pretty bad there for me for a minute, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things here. I'm not ecstatic with the end because it's rushed and I just wanted to get it out there. I may expand on it later, and I may even make this into a Dally/Cherry fic if there's enough interest. Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing. I adore you all.

* * *

The next thing she knew, she was waking up. A nurse rushed over to give Cherry crackers and juice, as well as a bag with her clothes in it. When the nurse was sure Cherry wouldn't faint, she instructed her to change back in the small room again, and to _take her time,_ stressing these last words.

Cherry was pulling on her stockings when she felt that familiar churn in her stomach. She ripped the curtain back and gasped, "bathroom," at the nurse. She was directed to a small room two doors down. She was told this would be a side-effect, and from the way the nurse's eyes held no trace of judgment, only sympathy and understanding, she figured she was not the first.

She barely recognized the girl staring back at her in the mirror. The girl in the mirror looked like one of the undead in those horror movies she'd watch with Bob late Sunday nights, curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, long past their bedtime. Dark circles formed under her eyes and her normally perfectly coiffed red hair was a tangled mess. Her pale skin was shimmering with sweat and her heart was racing. She splashed water on her face and while it didn't make her look any better, it made her feel better. She straightened out her clothes and smiled- unconvincingly, she thought- at the mirror. Taking another shaky, deep breath she walked out into the hallway.

"How you doing, dear?"

"Great," she breathed. "Am I free to go now?" The nurse nodded and patted her on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine."

* * *

"Pull over," she begged.

"I can't, there ain't nowhere to- are you- oh Christ are you gonna be sick again?"

Cherry didn't even remember telling him she had been sick already. Instead, she jerked her head in a vague 'yes' motion before quickly grabbing the bag her clothes and care instructions were in and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the floor. She retched quietly, thankful that none came out of her nose, but mortified all the same. Tears streamed down her face and she held the bag close, in case her stomach decided it wasn't finished wreaking havoc, but it seemed it was done for the time being. Dallas swore underneath his breath.

"You done?" She nodded and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned her forehead against the window, thankful for its cool relief. A rough hand hesitantly rubbed her back, but she was too tired to shrug him off. The pressure was comforting in a weird way. Soon after, she fell asleep to the soft purr of the engine.

She woke up when Dally pulled into the parking lot of a small diner.

"Where are we?" Her dry mouth made it hard to speak and the words came out a croaky whisper.

"I have no idea, but I'm starving and I figured you needed food too."

"In town?"

"Not our town." Cherry nodded gratefully.

The diner was mostly empty, and the tired waitress barely glanced their way as they sat in a cracked vinyl booth.

"I probably look awful," Cherry smiled, patting her hair down, before restlessly running her fingers over the plastic table top. She suddenly felt embarrassed, sure the three other customers and the two employees knew what she'd done. Dally shook his head and briefly grasped the top of her hand.

"You look great," he rasped, before clearing his throat. She glanced up at him and saw he looked how she felt: tired, conflicted, and like he'd aged ten years in the span of a morning. Faint worry lines creased his face. The waitress dropped off menus, and took their drink orders: water. The silence settled into comfortable quiet as they perused their options.

"What'll it be, kids?"

"Uh… Cheeseburger," Dally muttered.

"I'll have a turkey club, please." Ten minutes later, the pair was stuffing their faces with some much needed food.

"Thank you," Cherry said abruptly.

"For what?"

"Being here." Dally shrugged it off, tossing a fry at her. She smiled, rolling her eyes, understanding. There wasn't going to be a heartfelt conversation about their feelings and their fears and dreams, and she liked that. If it were Bob sitting across from her, he'd be overly concerned, with judgment bubbling just under the surface. Cherry wasn't proud of the actions that led her to this very moment, and she felt sick to her stomach both from the medication, and the intrusive thinking; but she knew for her- _for them_ \- this was the right decision.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Cherry's blood ran cold. She had been so determined to head straight to bed, that she hadn't noticed her parents' car in the driveway. Her mother was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes.

"I-"

"That wasn't Bob's car. Maybe a new boyfriend? Where were you?" Her mother sounded mildly interested- not accusatory or suspicious, just… barely caring. Cherry could lie, say that they had skipped and not-Bob was just another friend of theirs, someone who lived nearby, but she was sick of lying.

"Mom, you might want to sit down."

"What is it, dear?" Again with the airy tone.

"That wasn't Bob, nor a new boyfriend. That was a friend- a greaser friend, to be exact." The words melded together into a verbal blob; Cherry wasn't sure her mother had understood. However, her right eyebrow rose slightly, and her mouth pressed into a thin line; a sure sign she was unhappy.

"A _greaser?_ A _hoodlum? What_ were you doing with that trash? _"_ Her eyes traveled down her daughter's bare arms, quickly latching onto the unsightly dark bruises. "Did he hit you?"

"He's not-" Cherry's voice rose, echoing around the roomy kitchen. She paused before quickly continuing, lowering her voice. "He's not trash. He's a friend. He's the only real friend I've got right now. Mother, he helped me through one of the roughest days of my life-"

"Sherri, if you think you're seeing that boy again, you are sor-"

"You are not listening to me!" This time, Cherry didn't hold back, her emotions swirling around her, almost tangible. Her mother took a small step back, but otherwise stood her ground.

"Sherri-"

"I had an abortion!"

Like so many years before, her mother's reaction was the same. The plate she was holding slipped from her hands, and Cherry watched it tumble end over end to the ground, as if in slow motion. Her mother didn't even react when it shattered and sent white porcelain shards flying across the otherwise perfect kitchen floor. Eleanor stared at her daughter, a spitting image of herself 20 years ago. The girl before her could barely look at her; Cherry's normally warm green eyes shone with unshed tears and unspoken apologies.

" _What?"_ Eleanor spoke, finally breaking the palpable silence.

"Today. I went and had an abortion. These marks are from being jabbed with a needle." Thousands of scenarios played out in Cherry's mind as she waited for her mother's response. But not once did she expect what happened. Despite Eleanor's views on the matter, she could see her daughter was sick with worry, and without saying a word, gathered her daughter into her arms and herded her upstairs.

* * *

She lay in bed, thinking about the past few weeks. She didn't know what would happen after this, if things would go back to the way they were, or if everything would change. Her mother had done a complete 180, fretting over Cherry's health, and lamenting that Cherry didn't tell her about what she'd been going through, and she realized just how much she was loved. She didn't know if she would ever tell Bob or Randy or even Marcia about this. Bob's roses were still on the dresser; before, she found them taunting, a gross reminder of what had been. As she looked at them now, they seemed almost cheerful, welcoming. _Hello! We're here for you! Things will get better!_ She didn't know what the future held, but for now she was happy to curl up in her bed, breathing in the faint smell of laundry detergent, wrapped up in a hoodlum's jacket.


End file.
